


Cardboard Wings

by BrandiChampane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Cardboard Wings Au, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-12 12:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrandiChampane/pseuds/BrandiChampane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is a drifter who preaches his own sermons usually written with the aid of Narcotics. But when Dean Winchester lends him a places to say he thinks he may have a home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A little bit of Grace

Castiel swayed in the park, balance uneven from the vicodin taken a quarter of a mile back. He felt the cool grass beneath his feet, blades sticking between his toes. The air carried the scent of families grilling nearby making his stomach rumble. When was the last time he ate? Two miles back was a small diner where a man had tossed him half of a sandwich. Gone, along with the change he collected.   
A crowd formed to stare at the man as he pulled a small, tattered notebook from his pocket. Perhaps a sermon to pull in some income, or at least open the heart and minds of the town. His cardboard wings fluttered with his movements, the straps making him appear rigid. The man proceeded to read the passage scribbled in messy ink.   
“Gather ‘round for the words from our father,” he began. A light tug on his back broke his concentration. A child, no older than five, played with his wing. “Come child, take a seat and hear the gospel.” Castiel guided the boy with a gentle palm on his back.  
Before the boy could move a woman, his mother, was pulling him in her arms and exiting the park. Castiel watched as they made their way to a nearby daycare center. Soon the remaining crowd was groaning and making their exits as well. To each their own, he thought.  
The wind picked up as the sky darkened. There would be rain tonight. Castiel shivered as the light cotton draped loosely from his skin. He pocketed his notebook and made his way across the field. Today may have been unsuccessful but tomorrow could hold promise of a better sermon. 

An alley between a local bar and deserted bookstore served as shelter for the night. Sleep never came easy for Castiel and tonight was no better. Wind tugged at his wings he used as a make shift blanket and the corridor served no protection from the rain. Never the less, he was used to this and would make do.   
Thoughts of his childhood, where he was going, what was his purpose clouded his mind, making him restless. He watched a cat nearby, timid from his presence. It picked at small scraps of food near a dumpster. Castiel thought of his siblings he’d little contact with since leaving. He tried to remember how old his younger sister, Anna, would be turning in a few weeks. If he could find resources to send her a letter, let her know he’s still alive.   
The cat found her way to his side and then sniffed him before licking the rain off his nose. He lay a gentle palm on her head as she nuzzled against him. He wished he had something to feed her or himself. She was warm and comforting and reminded him of home, the aroma of coffee filling his room before he traveled to the kitchen to get breakfast. He shook the thought away before it had time to fester.   
A wet sound startled him into hiding beneath the wings, with Grace (he finally decided should be the cat’s name). Footsteps drew closer and he remembered stories of men stabbed in alleys and children being abducted off the streets and how no matter how long he wandered the roads he was still in danger. He squeezed his eyes as if he could will the stranger away.  
Light broke his concentration as he quickly realized someone was lifting the wings, his protection. He swallowed a lump in his throat and murmured a quick prayed. A rough palm shook his shoulder and he opened his eyes to his possible murderer. Green eyes peered into his blues but they did not scream run as he initially assumed. The man was large and tired if the bags under his eyes were anything to go by.   
“Buddy, hey, it’s okay,” his voice was gruff but calm, but Castiel still clutched Grace to his chest.   
“Come on, I can’t have you sleeping outside of my bar,” he said.   
“Oh,” Cas averted his eyes to look at the sign above his head.  
“Yeah, oh, now come on,” he extended a hand.  
Castiel replaced his wings and scooped Grace into his arms. He will have to find a new place to rest tonight. Maybe the park had a bench under a tree that would suffice, but he would have to hide his possessions if he did not want to be pick pocketed in his sleep. He will be forced to leave once dawn comes and park rangers begin their routes.   
“You look like you could use a shower,” the stranger eyed him over before adding, “and something to eat.” Castiel is taken aback. Was this a proposition?  
“I’m Dean,” he said and began to shake his hand he soon realized he was still holding. “And you look like you could use a hand,” his smile lit up his eyes. Or it could have been reflecting from the sign above him but Castiel believed it was all Dean.   
“Thank you,” was all Castiel could muster.

Dean walked him to a nearby apartment complex, fortified with a fence and a door that required a key just to get to the stairs. The building wasn’t large or elaborate but Castiel suddenly felt out of place, lesser in some way. He palmed the pills in his pocket and remembered who he was and what he did for a living.   
The fluorescents of Dean’s apartment nearly blinded him and seemed to be a surprise to Grace who was now fighting to get out of his arms. The room was small, holding a couch, table, tv, nothing luxurious. Castiel wondered how much time Dean spent at home. A layer of dust covered a book shelf that was hardly used he assumed. He stood uncomfortably in the space trying to calm Grace before setting her on the ground.   
Dean emerged from the kitchen holding two cups of tea and pushed one into Castiel’s hand. He took a sip of his before rummaging in a closet and pulling out a set of blankets, a towel and a spare tooth brush. Castiel set his cup down and accepted the items unsure of what to do next and Dean had this way of staring that made him want to run and kiss his feet all at once.   
“Castiel,” he forces out, voice gruff from the weather.  
“What?” Dean looked like he could peer into his soul and it made Castiel want to climb out of his own skin.  
“My name,” he stammered. “It’s Castiel.”  
“Well Castiel, this is my home. It ain’t much but you’re welcome to stay.” He placed a palm on his shoulder and led him to another room that connected to an even smaller bathroom. He started the shower and tested it before fidgeting with the dials. He directed Castiel to the soap, the wash rags, and toothpaste. The lights burned Castiel’s eyes causing him to rub them until he saw stars.   
“Why?” he asks, tone more aggressive than he means. Just ten minutes ago, he was lying in an alley, using a cat as a blanket and praying his last prayer. In his experience, strangers did not lend a hand unless they wanted something in return, and unspoken deal. Castiel could not go back to that, or so he’d been telling himself since he picked up this role of preacher. Why had he let him lead him here anyways? Because he was scared, he believed this man was going to end him and thought it best to just listen and do.   
“Why, what?” Dean asked taken aback. The look was so innocent and Castiel couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. He fixed his gaze on his lap before talking again.  
“Why would you let a stranger in your home?”   
“Well,” Dean adjusted to lean against the doorframe. “My dad, he uh, he didn’t teach me much growing up but if there’s anything I’ve learned from him it’s to help people out. And you looked like you needed help.” His smile returned and his eyes were bright again.  
“You hardly know me,” it dawned on Castiel how little he thought he deserved this. Now this man is standing in front of him with open arms and Castiel thinks of his father. The way his eyes burned through him when he had finally had enough of Castiel’s disobedience. He thought of the way Anna looked when he told her he was leaving. How Gabriel tried to lighten the mood with a joke that did not go over well but it still got Anna to stop crying. It was like a punch in his gut and he had the grip the edge of the sink to keep himself vertical. He runs a hand through his hair, remembers inhale, exhale.   
If Dean noticed his internal struggle, he did not show it well. He just patted him on the back and said dinner would be ready in ten before shutting the door behind him.   
Castiel peeled off his wings first, setting them gently on the floor. His clothes followed, tossed into a basket Dean informed him to, stating he would wash them. A set of Dean’s spare clothing would do him for the night, a pair of sweatpants and an old AC/DC t-shirt with holes in the neckline from wear. When Castiel finally steps in the shower he is greeted by a warm spray and though he was uneasy receiving help, he realizes he’s comfortable. Dean has shown him nothing but kindness nor want of something in return. When emotions begin to knot in his chest, Castiel decides to sit for the remaining of the shower.

Dinner consists of reheated pizza and a couple of beers. Dean’s life really is not luxurious. All the more reason Castiel feels guilty. There is the soft hum of a rerun of a show Castiel has never much cared for in the background. The couch is soft and pliant beneath him and he begins to relax before a fit of sneezes nearly sends him to floor. Dean’s pointing an accusatory finger at Grace and covering his nose.  
“If that’s gonna stay here you need to get her bath man,” Dean says.   
Castiel nods before being thrown into a fit of laughter because up until now Dean’s been this angelic creature in his eyes. Now he’s sliding away from Grace and tossing bits of crust to get her as far away as possible. He says something about needing a litter box now and Castiel feels like a burden again.  
“We can take her to a shelter, if she’s a hassle,” he says sheepishly. He’d rather not part with his new friend but already feels like he’s asking for too much. Now Dean has to accommodate for him and Grace.   
“No, it’s fine man,” he says between chewing his pizza. “Just try and keep out of my room, okay.” Castiel breathes a sigh of relief and wiggles his finger in front of Grace.  
When Dean’s decided he’s tired he turns out the lights and asks if Cas, a nickname he hadn’t heard in months, years even, is okay on the couch. Cas is grateful so he grunts a reply and burrows in a cocoon of blankets. He thinks he hears Dean chuckle at him but it’s late and his heard barely hits the pillow before he’s asleep.


	2. And Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take my eyes  
> Put them in and look at me now  
> This is the last time you´ll see me  
> I´m going  
> -Soley

“So this whole Wing gig, what’s that about?” Dean asks over breakfast.  
Suddenly self-conscious, Cas sits his fork on his empty plate. He can feel his cheeks become warm due to the rarity of discussing his ‘career’. Career, Cas stifles a laugh at the term. As far as he can remember, the wings have just been a part of him, the preaching not so much. More a result of his drug induced allusions.  
“Castiel, my name, it’s the angel of Thursday,” he states. Dean nods and shoves a forkful of pancakes in his mouth.  
“So, you’re like some prophet or some shit?” Cas stifles another laugh.  
“For a profit,” he chuckles now at his own joke. It’s not as though he made much of any income. Most people listen for a moment but once his ramblings start to become blasphemy it’s game over. He would have to grow extra limbs to count how many passerbies have retaliated to his sermons. He’s always been much too stoned to care and thankful for the folks who throw pity change his way. These days he makes more money during back alley bargains with strangers who are too pushy, too needy and Cas never says no.  
“I don’t mean any offense man, but those things look like they were put together by a child.”  
Cas goes stiff, his chair suddenly uncomfortable and the room too small. He runs a hand through his hair and focuses on his plate. He decides he’s too sober to talk about this but tries anyway.  
“My sister, Anna, she made them before I left.” He recalls the day she made them. They had moved into their new home, leaving discarded boxes strewn about. She was young and so damn artistic already. The room goes cold, making Cas shiver. He’s back to the day he left again and Anna’s small hands forcing those wings into his. The way she looked at him like some sort of superhero and he just needed his wings then he’s off to save the human race. She had so much goddamned faith in him.  
If he would not of spent so much time trying to pick battles with every word that hung from his father’s tongue maybe he’d still be there. Maybe he could be there to watch her graduate next spring. There would be congratulations and him teasing the poor bastard that decided to be attracted to his little sister. He’d wake up on Sundays and go to the chapel she would later be wed in. His mornings would have coffee and breakfast instead of hangovers and empty stomach and endless miles.  
Before thoughts like, shouldn’t have left, and wayward son can enter his mind he’s pushing past the table into the bathroom. He splashes cold water on his face before picking the pill bottle from his pocket and tossing two back. Inhale, exhale. He looks at his reflection, the bags under his eyes, feels the way they burn with threats of tears. There is a knock at the door so he tries to swallow down this thing that’s been crawling up his esophagus. Then Dean’s looking at him like he’s holding an eternity of apologies in his eyes and Cas needs to go outside.

Dean doesn’t pry when Cas shows up an hour later. When he’s tripping over his feet grumbling to himself. He pours him a glass of water and waits for him to be coherent again. Cas wonders why he hasn’t thrown him out yet. But he’s grateful. His clothes haven’t been washed yet but Dean’s found him a new change of clothes that hang loosely from him. When his head starts to spin again he finds refuge on the couch and holds Grace. She smells, he realizes.  
Sometime when Cas was gone Dean bought cat shampoo and other essentials. Tells Cas that he’s in charge of cleaning the litter box. Cas runs a hand through matted fur and decides now is a good time for her bath. Grace is small compared to the tub and he can’t stop laughing at how ridiculous she looks with a soap beard. Waters soaking through his shirt but he can’t be bothered to change it. Instead he swaddles Grace in a towel and holds her to keep her from shaking. He wonders how long she’s been on her own. Dean doesn’t flinch when he sits beside him with her but still refuses to pet her. Says it won’t be so bad when he finally gets some Claritin, or some sort of medication at least. Cas is a burden again. He lets Grace hop to the floor and whispers an apology.  
Dean doesn’t work until late so he spends the day around the house tip-toeing around Cas. When Dean’s been silent for a while Cas tries to speak again, a buzz to get him through this time. As he opens his mouth, he realizes he doesn’t actually know what to say. He hardly knows Dean.  
“When did you want me to leave?” he find appropriate to ask.  
“Uh,” Dean is taken aback. “I hadn’t thought that through actually. I mean until you’re on your feet I guess.”  
Cas laughs. “That could be quite a while.” He sinks into the couch.  
“Well I could talk to Ellen at the roadhouse, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind offering you a job. You would be doing grunt work but it’s something.”  
“I haven’t worked in a long time.”  
The room is silent a moment before Dean sighs. “I’m guessing whatever you’re on right now isn’t helping.”  
Cas stammers and shakes his head. They really aren’t. He swallows and looks anywhere but Dean. Waits for him to hand him his things and send him back to the alleys.  
“Are you going to tell me what they are or am I going to have to find out for myself,” his voice is stern now.  
Cas fidgets until he’s holding an old prescription bottle he got through some trade. Four pills rattle inside of it and before he can twist off the cap Dean is grabbing it. He makes a bee line for the bathroom, Cas hears the toilet flush and sobers at the sound. His pills are gone, Dean flushed them. Before he can get through the door, Dean is pushing him back by the shoulders. There’s screaming and Cas realizes it’s him, words flying out of his mouth so fast it sounds like a foreign language. Dean just repeats that it is for the better and he ain’t having that shit in his house. Cas’s eyes burn because he’s crying now and he’s angry and his body is made of lead dragging him to the floor.  
Dean doesn’t leave when he starts shouting at him, just braces himself against it. He doesn’t kick Cas out when he throws a fist, or when his nose is bleeding. Doesn’t swing back when Cas is screaming in his face again. And when Cas has worn himself out he doesn’t leave. He holds a rag to his nose and sits on the floor next to him. Cas throat hurts from screaming and his knuckles hurt from colliding with Dean’s face. He’s tired and wants to sleep but sits on the floor instead and tries to catch his breath. He’s startled when Dean finally speaks up.  
“I should have expected this,” he huffs out a laugh but there’s no humor. “This isn’t the first time.” His voice falters. Cas is too disoriented to reply.  
When some of the tension has left Dean speaks again.  
“My brother, he had the same problem.”  
“I’m sorry,” Cas isn’t sure if he means for his brother or for lashing out at him.  
“No, but, Sammy, he’s good now. I guess when I saw you out there, with those little wings. I couldn’t just leave you I guess.” Cas is quiet.  
“You gotta sober up man,” he claps him on the shoulder and leaves him to his thoughts.  
He wonders how old his brother is, where he is now. Then he wonders if Dean was the one to help him the way he trying to aid him. He thinks of his own brother Gabriel, how he was always trying to give him advice. Cas never listened, felt it imprinted in his DNA to rebel. 

By the time Dean has to leave for work they’ve ordered pizza and watched more Star Wars than Cas thought existed. They still haven’t spoken of the ‘incident’ and Cas prefers it that way. Through forced conversation, he’s learned that Sam’s at Stanford now and going to become a lawyer. Dean does not like to talk about his mother but is more than happy to complain about his dad. He hates frilly music, would die before giving up his Impala and his favorite food is pie.  
Cas isn’t as enthusiastic about giving back stories but mentions his father’s pressing of religion as one of the reasons he’s started writing sermons. They are more of a fuck you, a sort of backlash. Talks about the times him and his brother got into trouble at school. He’s in a state of nostalgia when he remembers the good times he had with his family but crumbles when he remembers Anna’s birthday is soon. Silence consumes them again and Cas wants to punch Dean again. Instead, he asks for some paper, and an envelope if it’s not too much trouble.  
After Dean has left, he stares at blank lines and wonders what to say. Last his family knew, he was good on his own, owned an apartment, going to school. That was before the universe upended itself and knocked Cas on his ass. Before he was trading stress-relief in for a-whole-new-color-spectrum that was harder growing harder and harder to say no too. When the funds ran out there was no help, no fall back and Cas chose to keep moving forward. The further he runs the more the demons engulf him and it feels good doesn’t it? Cas sets his pen aside and thinks the book shelf really needs a good dusting. When Dean comes home, the shelves are organized, the floors been swept and the laundry has been done. He never picks the pen back up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all of the angst, things will get happier I promise.  
> Also made a blog, has art and things: http://aucardboardwings.tumblr.com/


	3. Help a Brother Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually like to switch perspectives but I did.  
> Dean's POV.  
> Sorry if that bothers anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light smut because I needed to move the plot along.  
> Sorry, not sorry.

When Dean gets to work, the bar is lined with customers. He feels a sense of comfort in the aroma of beer mixed with the sounds of patrons conversing. Even so, the bar doesn’t quell the itch that’s been working through him. He finds Ellen in the kitchen yelling out orders to the cooks. Before he can knit together his question she’s handing him two beers and sending him back out. He sets two beers down in front of the burly men at table eight. That’s how the night goes. Dean get’s orders, mixes drinks and talks to regulars. By the end of the night his legs are sore and he’s ready to drop to the floor and never get back up.  
Ellen is behind him taking inventory as he wipes down the bar. He’s just gotten to tossing out old peanuts when Ellen flicks him on the back of the ear. He flinches before turning around.  
“So boy what do you want?” She says giving him an accusatory glance.  
“Uh, what?”  
“You’ve got the look on your face when you’re afraid to ask for a favor. Spill it boy, what’s up?” Ellen knew him too well. Years of living with her and Bobby will do that. He scrubs a hand over his stubble and shrugs.  
“There’s this guy, he needs a job. Can we do that?” He rushes out.  
“What guy? Have I met him?”  
“Not really, no. He’s new to town. I found, or met him last night.” He winces at his own slip of tongue.  
“Dean what’s going on?” He shakes his head like a lost puppy. “I’m not dumb boy,” she wacks him on the back of the head and yelps.  
“He’s a drifter; little down on his luck is all.” He smiles and hopes she won’t pry, but Ellen settles him with another look.   
“Dean what are you doing?” She exhales irritated.  
“Nothing, I mean he was sleeping in an alley. Guy needed help.” His voice harsher than he means but Ellen is giving him that look. Like when he dropped out of school and showed up at her and Bobby’s doorstep. Like he messed up.   
“Dean just because of what happened-“ and Dean has to leave before she finishes because he doesn’t want to hear it.  
He’s out the door, hit with the calm of night air, before she can finish with not your fault and things are better now. Things aren’t better, not as far as Dean’s concerned. Sam is still in college, they still haven’t reconciled and it’s not better. Sam’s probably sitting with some cute blonde talking law and Dean’s here in shitsville population: one asshate brother. And now there is Castiel who he can help; make it right. He’s still mulling it over when he walks in and finds the apartment spotless and Cas is giving him these eyes, such sorry eyes. Dean isn’t having that so he grabs a beer from the fridge and tosses one over before turning Star Wars back on. If the conversation is stilted then he doesn’t care because no chick flick moments. 

Dean’s in the middle of dreaming of some skinny thing with a halo when he hears screams from the living room. The words are incoherent but screams make him jump. He tries to cover his ears and shimmy on pants, which is harder than he originally calculated. When he tries shaking Castiel’s shoulder giving him with another black eye. He wonder what the hell Cas is dreaming about when he hears stop, get off, and a repetition of sorry, sorry, sorry. He grips him by the shoulders, shakes, and shouts his name until he’s met with bulging eyes, shocking enough to send him back a step.   
Castiel is up and out of the room in second and the sounds of retching explain why. Dean silently prays he didn’t miss the bowl. It’s silent and Dean tries to piece together this back story that Cas is so flagrant in avoiding discussing. He’s got siblings, avoided problems, and a shit dad. Dude could be a Winchester as far as Dean’s concerned. He shakes a thought of Sammy off when Cas calls him from the bathroom.  
Cas is sitting with his head in the toilet looking paler than normal. There are bags under his eyes and vomit on his breath. Dean runs a washrag under cold water and hands it to him. Cas’ hands shake when he reaches for it and Dean winces. The guy looks like shit and Dean isn’t sure how to help so he just stands there, useless again. Cas wipes the sweat off his brow and flushes the toilet.   
“Dean,” he says barely above a whisper. His voice ragged. “Dean if I do this, I need something. Anything Dean I can’t,” he clutches his stomach and Dean thinks he might vomit again.   
He grabs a glass from the kitchen and fills it with water. The sound of bile hitting water makes Dean shiver. This is going to be a long night he thinks and he slides the cup over to Cas. He realizes that he’s not sure how long it’s been since Cas has been sober. All he knows is that he had pills on him when he found him. But there are secrets Cas keeps and he’s sure those aren’t the only drugs he’s played with.   
Once Cas’ heaving has resorted to dry, empty chokes he drinks the glass in front of him. Dean hopes he can keep it down because anymore of this and he’s going to the one clutching the toilet. He tries not to think of Sam when Cas clutches his knees and shivers. He looks smaller than he remember, thinks he can count his ribs. Cas’ gaze is fixed on the tiles now he’s crying and rocking with each sob. Dean shuffles on the tile until he’s sitting beside him and rests a palm on his back, his shirt is damp with sweat but Dean doesn’t waver. Instead, he rubs small circles and tries to calm him.   
“Dean, I can’t do this,” Cas finally croaks out. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” Now he’s hunched against Dean and he can feel him shaking.  
“I know buddy,” he soothes. “I know but once you get it all out it’s over. It’ll be okay.”  
“Is this what your brother, Sam, is this what happened to him?” Dean’s hand stills.  
“I don’t know, I guess. I wasn’t really there.” He voice breaks. There’s guilt mixed with regret building in his chest and he wonders how he can still breathe. He thinks of Cas, then of Sam, then Sam small and wilted in a corner without his brother to help him. He squeezes his eyes shut and covers them with his free hand.   
They spend the night huddled in the bathroom. Cas pets Grace until she falls asleep in his lap. Dean tells him about Sammy, about how he had fallen into the wrong crowd at school. When Dean came home and found his strung out on the couch. How he had to drive him to the hospital and leave him to the doctors. When he was so worried and scared but so unsure of how to face him again. Sammy was his little brother and he was supposed to take care of him. The warning signs were there but Dean was so wrapped up in his own life that he missed them. They way they fought when Sam got out and fell back into old habits. He chokes back tears when he remembers the look on Sam’s face when Dean told him to choose between him or his next fix. He can feel that nagging piece in him re-shatter when he remembers Sam’s choice.   
Sam’s cleaned up now. He was forced into rehab when Bobby decided he’d had enough. The rehab knocked some sense into him and now he’s riding a scholarship at Stanford. Bobby let him know when he received the acceptance letter. Dean regrets not calling and congratulating him, regrets that he still hasn’t called him.   
When the sun peaks through weak curtains, Dean thinks it’s time to get off the floor. He makes Cas a pot of coffee which he tentatively sips at. Cas smells like his own waste and Dean has had enough by the time they finish their cups. He hands Cas another old t-shirt, decides he can keep it when he steps out of the shower with it fitting snuggly. Exhaustion hits him like a zeppelin when they are watching another re-run of Law and Order. He’s drained emotionally and physically but Cas is still shaking and he looks too scared Dean to just leave him.   
When he wakes up Cas is resting against his shoulder and Dean likes the warmth so he moves closer. It’s when he smells his own aftershave that he opens his eyes to ashen hair and baby blues staring back at him. Cas mutters a sleepy, hello Dean, when he gets up and turns off the T.V. He clears his throat and looks around the living room like he’s lost something. Cas just curls up with Grace again and watches. He looks so innocent and Dean wishes he’d stop looking at him like he’s some God. He sets an afghan next to him and goes to his room.  
The showers too warm and his skin is too warm so he turns to dial until it’s just above freezing. He tries to think of balding men and saggy skin and anything to erase those blues that are burning the back of his eyes. He tries to think of the last girl he was with, if he’ll call her back. He wonders where he left her number or if he can find someone during his break. But then there’s Cas sleeping on his couch and how would he sneak around him, or explain it when she asks. Then there is Cas sleeping and breathing against his skin and he’s touching himself now. His skin feels like a fire and he just wants to put it out and those blues, fuck those blues and he’s coming against the linoleum and thinks he’s the biggest creep. Guys don’t help strangers and jerk to them in the shower. Dean erases blue eyes as he towels off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cardboard Wings Blog: http://aucardboardwings.tumblr.com/


	4. Star Gazing

As the weekend approaches, Cas decides he needs to get out of the apartment. Since the detoxification process began, he has been lounging on the couch or cuddling with the toilet and frankly, he is sick of it. He wants to feel the grass between toes and the wind on the nape of his neck. To feel the tug on his shoulders as his wings sway in the wind. There is something about four walls that make him feel like drowning, accompanied by Dean’s being one-step behind him. He picks up after him and gets him drinks, blankets, and Tylenol and Cas feels smothered.   
When Dean is asleep, he shrugs off his afghan and grabs his wings, which are safely tucked away between the bookshelf and couch. The door creaks when it is opened so Cas does his best to compress his body and fit through the crack. When he has finished jimmying a stick in the frame of the main door, he makes his way to the park. The town is silent apart from a dog barking nearby.   
Cas breathes in the fresh air before a new wave of nausea settles in his stomach. He finds a bench to sit on and perches his head between his knees the way his mother taught him to do as child. His stomach lurches but he is able to swallow it down, no longer as violent as it was in the beginning. He pulls his wings over his shoulders and feels impervious. When the nausea has subsided he walks across the field and digs his toes in the grass, it is soft and comfortable and all he needs.   
He pulls out his little note book and a pen that has been borrowed, not stolen. Cas takes pleasure in the way the ink works smoothly across the pages. He recalls a nightmare he had last night and begins to put the picture into words, the moon serving as a light. He smells the sulfur and burning of flesh, hears the screams of lost souls. Around him are black eyes, black souls, cutting into the innocent, then there is him. In the center, he’s always trapped in the mix of it all, no matter how much he wants to save them those chains weigh him down. Then there’s Anna and she’s screaming so loud it shatters windows and break light bulbs. He can hear his father’s cackle making him stop because anymore and it will be real again. Inhale, exhale.  
He digs his toes in the grass again and watches the stars. He could never tell the Big Dipper from Orion’s Belt but he could appreciate the beauty of God’s handiwork. He stifles a laugh. He thinks back to the day when his father took them to the Creation Museum in Kentucky. He could care less about Noah’s Ark but the observatory enthralled him. To know that he was a speck in this universe is fascinating, seeing the colors galaxies created as they spiraled too close is even better.   
The wind picks up, he feels like he is floating, riding a brand new high, and the only way down is to fall. If he concentrates hard enough he can feel the earth rotating beneath him. He lies down and hums the tune to something he had heard Dean play the day before. There is a rustle in the distance but Cas is too distracted by galaxies to notice. When figure sits beside him, Cas turns to see Dean staring up at the sky. He notices the wonder is his eyes, the shadows on his jaw line, the way the moon light makes him look deified. That’s how Dean has been to Cas, a savior.  
Dean’s voice is raspy when he tries to whisper, “When my dad had bad nights I’d drive Sammy to an empty field down past our house. We’d just lay on the hood of the Impala and watch the stars.” He keeps his gaze at the sky when he speaks. Cas nods.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt, just when it was too quiet I got a little worried.” Something warm grows in Cas’ chest so he smiles this time when he nods.   
Dean’s eyeing him back now, looks like he’s about to speak but shuts his mouth. Instead, he picks at the edge of Cas’ notebook before rolling it over in his hands. He reads ‘Sermons’ on the cover before opening to the first page. They are scribbles mainly, small notes Cas has made to himself. His eyes scan doodles Cas has made, making no real attempt to read the words. When he’s done he tosses it back on Cas’ chest.  
“That’s some dark shit, Cas.” Then he’s lying beside him, elbows bumping. Cas can’t figure out why his heart is beating faster and wonders if his nausea will come back.   
“They are the results of nightmares and bad trips,” he laughs out, but there is nothing funny about having your fears exposed. He looks back at the sky to ground himself against the anxiety that has been rolling through him.   
It is Dean’s turn to nod and look away. He opts to change the subject when he can’t formulate a reply. “Are you feeling better?” He rolls to his side so Cas can see the concern on his face. A heat climbs up Cas’ neck to his cheeks because he can feels Dean breathe beside him and the last time he was this close to someone it was in an exchange for pot, and he didn’t have money to offer.   
He focuses hard on a tree branch moving in the wind. “Much, thanks.” He clears his throat and wonders when stars and galaxies became so intimate.   
Since Dean started spending nights awake with him, he thinks. Since Dean became more than just a stranger who gave him a bite to eat. He’s helping him, or trying to, and sharing stories, personal ones. He buys Grace litter and gives Cas old clothes to wear. He’s there when he vomits and thinks it will be the day he dies. Dean never throws a fit when he sleeps in late or kicks him out when his hands shake so bad that he breaks another dish. Cas doesn’t know what to do with it all so he pockets his notebook and walks back to the apartment with Dean at his side.

After Cas has four cups of coffee and has managed to clean all of the dishes he sits down at the kitchen table. He found another piece of paper and think it’s time to finally write. Writing is hard a first but, he scribbles out the bad bits and keeps going. 

Dear Anna,  
I’m staying with a man friend. He’s nice, you would like him. He works at some bar, that’s not important. It’s your birthday soon, relish in being an adult. I couldn’t get you a present, sorry. But I’m doing well, better now. I’m sober, Dean did that. I have a cat, you would like her, too. She’s white and has black paws, like she walked in paint. I named her Grace. That’s not important.  
I miss you and I’m sorry I left so abruptly. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get in touch. I was lost for a while. I miss Gabriel too, I hope he’s doing well. I wish I could be there, to see you graduate. I know dad wouldn’t like that, though. I’m sorry for that too. 

I miss you, I love you,  
Castiel

He gives the envelope to Dean to fill out the address and he promises to mail it on his way to work. They are settled in front of the T.V. when Cas tells him about Anna. He leads with the letter, with her age and the school she’s attending. He tells him about the day she made him wings because he’s Castiel and angels have wings. How she begrudgingly made another pair for Gabriel when he complained that he’s an angel too. His voice breaks when he talks about the day he left. Says that he regrets it but, his dad would not give him another choice. That’s what happens when you bring drugs into your religious father’s house. When he catches you sneaking out at night and coming back too stoned to remember to be quiet. He is angry when he talks about being kicked out of school because his father refusing to pay the tuition.   
Cas thinks of Dean and his brother. Says he would forgive him, if he were Sam. Dean should call him and work things out. Sam is older now, level headed. Castiel tells him that minds just don’t function the way they should when people are on that shit. He would do the same, has done the same, but Dean is a good brother and Sam is a good kid. Dean remembers to grab the envelope before he leaves for work an hour early.   
Cas wants to say he is sorry so he starts opening cabinets and pulling out ingredients. There are old cookbooks on the bookshelf and he flips to the pie recipes. Dean does not have much to work with but that does not stop Cas from rolling out enough dough for a crust. There is pumpkin pie filling, abandoned from Thanksgiving’s past, and then Cas is waiting for the timer. He has never been one to cook but he has his fingers crossed that it is not terrible.   
When the timer finally announces that the pie is finished, Cas is humming along to one of Dean’s tapes that he’s managed to get working in a beat up stereo. He sits on the couch with Grace waiting for Dean to come home. After a moment of thought, he laughs at how much of a housewife he has become. He needs to get a job soon to start pulling his own weight. The final chords of a Metallica song beat out of the stereo when Dean comes in with take-out. The scent of greasy burgers fills the room, causing Cas to nearly forget the pie.  
Dean is heading into the kitchen to set down the food and stops at the archway. He looks at the pie, to the stove, to Cas, then back at the pie. He slowly rests the food on the table and rests his hands on his hips. Cas wonders if he’s done something wrong until Dean erupts in laughter. Then he is pulling out plates and forks and cuts slices for Cas and him. He is still laughing when he slides into the space beside Cas and slides a plate and fork his way. Cas watches as he pushes a bite past his lips and smiles around his fork.   
“Cas you make pie as good as this everyday and you can live here forever,” he manages between bites.   
Cas feels his face warm as he starts in on his own slice. It’s not bad, not Martha Stewart worthy either. Dean likes it though, so he feels accomplished. When they are finished, Dean sets their plates in the sink and debates eating his burger now or digesting first. He sticks them in the fridge and things they can wait. Cas turns the stereo off and claims the couch for himself, stretching out his legs. Dean musses up his hair and mutter goodnight, his hand lingers when he seems to realize what he’s done. Cas doesn’t want him to move though, so he catches his retreating hand. Dean runs the pad of his thump across the back of his hand, smirks as if he has figured something out and goes to his room. That night Cas dreams of laying on the moon and holding hands with strangers.


	5. Bedroom Hymns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sweetest submission  
> Drinking it in  
> The wine, the women, the bedroom hymns  
> 'Cause this is his body  
> This is his love  
> Such selfish prayers and I can't get enough  
> -Florence and the Machines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written smut before, I am sorry.

When Cas steps into the Road House for the first time his toes press too snug against his sneakers. Dean insisted he needed a pair of shoes if he was going to come. He is dressed in a well-pressed shirt and tie loose around his neck. He worries about sweat staining the cotton and runs a hair through his combed hair. Another detail Dean stressed, have to make an impression if he wants hired. He runs his tongue over chapped lips and tries to decipher which uniform belongs to Ellen. A drawn out call from behind the counter lets him know.  
“Dean get your ass back here we need hands! Who’s your friend?” Dean tugs the sleeve of Castiel’s shirt and guides him behind the bar.   
“This is Cas-Castiel. He’s the guy lookin’ for a job,” Dean’s voice sounds nervous, something Cas has never heard until now.  
“Well he certainly looks work material,” Ellen’s eyes scan over him.   
Cas extends a hand and introduces himself again. There are other workers around with eyes on him, which makes him nervous.   
“We are busy tonight. I guess we can throw you in the mix, see if you come out alive,” she pats him on the back before ushering drinks to costumers.  
Cas must look apprehensive because Dean pats him on the shoulder and tells him he will be fine. Cas sure hopes so.  
The nights easy at first, he spends a few hours opening bottles and sliding them across the counter. He hasn’t spilled anything or broken any bottles, so far so good. He bites his tongue when Jo, Ellen’s daughter, starts teaching him to mix drinks. A customer complains about too much rum in their coke (not that it stops him from downing the glass) and Cas thinks this is going to be a long night. Jo just smiles of her shoulder at him and tells him he will get it right next time.  
About midnight, the crowd dies down and Cas can finally catch his breath. Jo saunters beside him and laughs with a finger pointed at Dean. A young brunette is seated at a table where he is. He looks like he’s flexing when he hands her a martini and Cas nearly spits out his drink.   
“If that ain’t the most piss poor attempt at flirting. You wait till he starts drinking, it gets worse,” Jo says beside him.   
Cas wipes coke off his hands and watches Dean slip a number into his pocket. Apparently it worked. He almost feels disappointed but shrugs it off. Dean’s his own person and what he does with his personal life should not concern him. Jo shoots him a smile before attended to a couple that has just walked into the bar.  
Cas spends another couple of hours learning the proper way to mix drinks he’s never heard of. He also spends those hours taste testing them, which is why Dean has to nearly carry him home. Cas has never been much for the drink so he’s embarrassed to as plastered as he is. The climb to Dean’s door feels like it takes a century and Cas just wants to rip his shoes off already.   
He’s barefoot and on the couch when Dean throws down his keys and a napkin with scribble on it. Cas feels guilty, Dean could be enjoying the company of a girl instead of being stuck with his drunk ass.   
“Dean, you don’t have to stay here, I am an adult,” he slurs.  
Dean doesn’t seem to be catching on so he grips the napkin on unsteady feet. “Go have some fun,” he’s waving it around now like a flag so Dean snatches it and sets it back down.  
“Nah, it’s fine. She’ll be there tomorrow,” but he doesn't sound convinced.  
Cas still feels guilty and there is something about the way Dean sits with his legs open that Cas cannot stop eyeing. He returns to the couch and studies his hands, his own lap, Dean’s lap. Maybe it’s the quantities of liquor he’s ingested but Cas really wants to do something for Dean. Since he ended up on his couch, Dean has spent most of his time in this small space.  
Before Cas realizes he’s doing it, he’s pressing small kisses on Dean’s thighs and working at his button. He hears a sharp exhale from Dean, but no attempt to stop him so he keeps going. First, his jeans, which are tossed to the floor. Then he is palming Dean through his boxers and kissing along his jaw. Dean just grips his hair and accepts it because he would be lying if he said he didn’t want it. He pushes and pulls at Cas until he’s in his lap and he can suck bruises into his neck.  
Cas licks at his collar bone and presses cold hands under his shirt and he shivers. They don’t know when they began rolling their hips together but neither want to stop. Taking each other’s clothes off becomes trivial but their skin is finally flush together and Cas is tasting Dean’s mouth. Dean’s tongue pushing against his, becomes dominant, and Cas doesn’t want it to stop. Dean grips Cas’ thighs and carries him to his room, the couch is too small, it just won’t work there.  
He’s positioned over Cas’ small frame, working a finger inside of him. Cas just arches into the touch a whispers his name like a prayer. There’s another finger and Cas is practically begging now. He moves in search of contact and before Dean’s about to give him what he wants he’s halting his movements and running the pad of his thumb over Cas’ temple. He looks worried, scared even and Cas wonders if he’s done something wrong.  
“Is this what you want, Cas?” Is what Dean asks, but what he means is more. More than a one night stand, more than forced conversations over breakfast, more than just. Cas nods vigorously because he needs that contact again and whatever Dean wants he can have, he saved him and that’s how Cas sees him. A savior.   
Dean finally pushes in making Cas whimper and claw at his shoulder blades. They are going painfully slow and Cas wriggles to get some friction. Dean picks up pace, Cas meeting him with each thrust. There are moans and heavy breathes and Cas screaming Dean’s name when he finally comes. There are a few more thrusts before Dean’s unraveling, whispering Cas, Cas, Cas, in the crook of his neck.   
When they have caught their breath, Dean wipes them off and wraps Cas in his arms. This is the first time Cas has ever been in Dean’s bed so he takes in the room. Small, but not cluttered, a picture of a woman on his nightstand with a young Dean. Cas smiles and settles his head against Dean’s chest. He presses a few more kisses there and then he’s asleep.

Bacon and eggs waft into the bedroom when Cas wakes up. His head aches but he shoves on a pair of old sweat pants and joins Dean in the kitchen. He’s buttering a piece of toast as Cas presses a kiss to the back of his neck. He’s happy when Dean leans into it, returns the favor with a peck on his temple.   
“How’s that hangover treating you?” Cas groans and Dean laughs. “Yeah, I’ll get you something for it in a moment. Get a seat, breakfast is almost done.”  
Dean sets a plate of food in front of Cas, a cup of coffee (black, the way Cas likes it), and two Advil. When Dean’s finished his plate he indulges in the last piece of pie Cas made. Cas thinks the sounds he makes are sinful but smiles anyways. They share a couple glances before Cas is up and prepares for a shower. He smiles at the clothes Dean hands him and thinks he can get used to this.

A knock on the door surprises Cas, he nearly drops a shampoo bottle and just barely catches it. Dean does not get many visitors, usually neighbors complaining about the noise levels. He hears a familiar voice from the living room and drops the bottle on his foot, causing him to wince with pain. There is some shuffling in the bedroom, and then the bathroom door opens with an apologetic Dean on the other side. Finally he is toweled off, adorned in another band t-shirt and hurries to the living room to find Anna and Gabriel nursing coffee cups.   
Anna taps at the return address on the envelope, as if Cas should have known they would find him eventually. He cannot say he is upset, just caught off guard. Dean stands beside him, rests an apprehensive hand on his lower back. Cas doesn't shake it off, rather leans into the comfort. He’s nervous, the last time he saw Anna it was a good-bye, and not a good one. Too young to understand why he had to leave. She’s grown up now, all smiles and tenderness in her eyes. Cas pushes one foot in front of the other until he’s hugging her small frame. He catches a tear with his thumb and moves to hung Gabriel.   
After they have managed their emotions, Gabriel is the first to speak.  
“You are not an easy one to find, little bro.”  
“No, I guess not.”  
“Are you going to introduce us to hulking man meat over here or should we play guess who,” always jokes with Gabriel.  
“This is Dean, he’s my,” Cas searches for the right adjective. Partner, no, companion, definite no, hulking man meat, he likes that one, but no. He’d like to say savior but thinks better of it. “He’s my boyfriend,” he finally mutters, shooting a glance at Dean who nods in return. When neither sibling balks, he exhales.   
“He’s the one that gave me a place to stay.” He smiles at Dean now.  
“Reel them in with kindness, they’ll never see in coming,” Gabriel remarks and Cas holds his breath again. There is tension in his stomach and his head is still pounding.   
“Gabe, it’s not like that. He’s a good man, he is even trying to get me job. Bought me shoes, got me-got me sober,” his gaze drops to his feet. Dean’s returns to his side and Cas revels in the warmth he brings.   
“Alright, alright,” Gabriel steps down. “I just, we just missed you is all. You had us worried.”  
“Me too.”  
It’s a Sunday, Dean has all day off, so they spend it catching up. Anna nearly cries when Cas pulls out the wings. He finds out the Gabriel made it in a law firm working with an uncle. Anna wants to major is art and shows him an art blog she’s put together. They skirt around anything to do with their dad until Gabriel lets it slip that his funeral was a few months back. Cas isn’t sad, doesn't feel sad, but it doesn't stop the knot tightening in his gut.


	6. Far From Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I fucked up this time  
> Just give me one more try  
> I know you've made up your mind  
> So leave me here behind you  
> -The Pretty Reckless

After Anna and Gabriel return home, Cas locks himself in the bathroom. He is upset, Dean understands. His father was not grade A ‘father of the year’ material but it still hurt when he passed away. He had to be strong, hold Sam’s hand and tell him it will all be okay. He was grateful when Bobby took them in, just wishes Cas would do the same, let him in. They have been together long enough for Cas to know that Dean isn’t going to toss him out.  
He has only known Cas a short while now, but Cas holds a sort of familiarity. A stranger he’s know his whole life. They fit together easy, between sharing shitty childhoods and taking their coffee black. Dean has never been one for heartfelt moments but he doesn’t mind sharing with Cas, letting him in. There is a sort of satisfaction that comes with seeing him in his old t-shirts too. He likes the little things Cas does too, like run his hand through his hair when he’s nervous. The way his lips are always chapped and his eyes crinkle when he smiles. Enjoys being the one to anchor Cas when he’s had another nightmare. Likes the way Cas hums to his old tapes.   
Helping Cas feels like helping Sammy the way he never did. He gets a second chance to hold his hand and carry him through. It’s a redemption he thinks, a way to say sorry without picking up the phone. Because as much as Dean wants to apologize, say he’s proud, he can’t face that he was the one to let his brother down this time. All those years of taking care of Sam, cooking and cleaning after him. Driving him to a diner when John was in one of his states. When Sam’s shit was hitting the fan and he needed someone to guide him to the light Dean was the one to let go. No sorry can blanket the guilt.   
But Dean is here now and Cas is on the other side of the door. He knocks and jiggles the handle but gets no response.  
“Cas, man, you gotta let me in,” it contains two meanings that weigh on Dean.  
Shampoo bottles and other toiletries thump against the wall Dean can practically feel the heat of his anger through the door and just wants to get in there. Make it better. This was bound to happen. Cas hadn’t spoken about it through lunch, faked a few laughs through lunch. No he is an erupting volcano and he’s not stopping until Pompeii is ripped off the map.   
Dean grabs a butter knife from the kitchen, the good thing about his dump of an apartment is the locks are easy to open. He waits to hear the click and slides the door open, easily, as if Cas is some timid animal in the wild. He looks like a predator, his hands rested against the sink counter, staring at his own reflection to avoid eye-contact with Dean. Dean slides the door shut behind him, shuts the lid to the toilet to sit on. He watches a tear streak down Cas’s cheek.  
“This is bullshit! I didn’t even get to-“ he cuts himself off and tucks his head into his hands. Just cradles it as his body shakes and shivers.  
Dean reaches out a hand and Cas slaps it away, he tries not to take it to heart. Cas needs a minute to recompose, he tells himself. He focuses on the dirt beneath his fingernails and tries to wipe the image of a shattered Cas beside him. He can hear Cas muttering to himself, inhale, exhale, like a broken record player. His breathing is rapid and then there is the sound of shattering glass and a shard collides with Dean’s cheek. Cas’s fist is bleeding he’s shaking and Dean knows it hurts.   
He reaches for a towel, tries to grip Cas by the arm but gets shoved off. He’s spitting words in his face like, not some charity case and can’t make up for being a shit brother. Cas knows how to hit where it hurts and Dean would rather have a bloody nose right now because the burn in his throat hurts too much. His eyes stings but he shakes it away. There is blood on his hands and he just wants to help, make it better but Cas is storming out of the room, out of the apartment. Dean winces when the door slams, wants to go after him but he is comatose.   
He isn’t sure how much time has passed when his legs start working again. He is numb when he slides shattered remains of his mirror into the trash. Numb when he wipes down the counter, mops the floor, takes out the trash. He stands outside by the trash, thinks of tossing himself in. Thinks maybe Cas will come back. But he doesn’t, not until the sun trades shifts with the moon and the stars fade away.   
Dean feeds Grace, cleans her litter, and washes the dishes. He thinks maybe he will eat, trades it for a drink instead. The phone feels like it is judging him when he does not pick it up and call Sam. Tell him he is sorry for not being there. Tell him he wants to be big brother again, tease him and call him bitch again. But he just watches the stars instead.  
Dean’s startled out of his stupor when a buzz at his door echoes through the kitchen. The sound of heavy footfalls and fabric sliding against wallpaper tell him just what state Cas is in. He bites back his anger and helps Cas through the threshold. Cas tries to shrug him off but he’s too far gone that his body is limp in Dean’s grasp. Dean catches the scent of sweat and some other man’s cologne of Cas, thinks he might lose his shit after all. Cas is smiling something in genuine and it makes bile churn in Dean’s stomach, presses against the lining and burns.   
The shower subsides the burn under his skin, itches it’s way to the surface. Cas slides easily to the back of the tub. His wings are still on, Dean realizes as he starts to slides his shirt off. They are tattered, torn at the corners and drenched from the shower. Dean tries to slide them off his shoulders but Cas catches his wrist and refuses to let go. His eyes are dead when Dean catches them. When he finally slips and slides his wrists free, he tosses a rag at him and leaves him to his own devices.   
Dean can hear him stir in the water from the kitchen. Wonders where he was, who he met with. He’s piecing it together like some sort of jigsaw because Cas doesn’t have money and those sermons don’t pull in a profit. Then there was that cologne and who the hell was touching Cas and feeling Cas, making his sweat and keen for them. Dean feels sick, grabs his bottle and thrusts it into the wall in front of him. Watches as the pieces ricochet and scatter across the floor. Remains of its contents cling to the wallpaper. The commotion in the bathroom stops so Dean fights himself to go check on him  
Cas is laying in the tub with his eyes shut, clothes gone but still wearing his wings. Dean almost smiles because no matter what shit Cas pulls he still looks angelic as fuck in the tub. He pulls the plug and lets the water run out. Cas’ small body is lithe in his arms when he carries him to the bed. He tries his best to dry him with a towel but Cas moves around too much. Dean sheds his own clothes and slides into bed next to him.   
Say what he wants, Cas is not a charity case and Dean does care. He needs this, needs to help him. Somewhere at Stanford, Sam is trudging through life on his own and he isn’t about to let that be Cas too. He slings an arm over his soaked chest and rakes him to his side. Cas opens his eyes to look but shuts them again. He starts a repetition of sorries in Dean’s ear. Dean knows, hell he knows. He’s sorry too. Sorry Cas’s life is just as fucked up as his, sorry Cas never got to fix things, sorry he couldn’t play big brother. It hits so close to home and Dean’s eyes burn again.   
“I’ve got you, it’s okay,” he whispers back, runs a hand through Cas’s hair.   
He tries to pull his hand back but Cas catches it, presses a kiss to his palm and chants sorries again. Dean presses a kiss to his temple and plays with his hair until he’s asleep. He makes sure to keep Cas on his side and rubs his back when he vomits.   
Maybe he will call Bobby tomorrow, get Sam’s number. Let him know that he is sorry. That he didn’t want to walk away but he couldn’t keep feeling like he failed his little brother. Tell him that he tried but guilt sticks like wet clothes and weighs you down. He was too young and too unsure of anything. Talk to him about Cas. Get the number to the treatment center he went to. Cas may be able to get through this tonight but there will be tougher days where he is unsure. Where his mind wins the battles and he climbs back into prescription bottles.  
Dean spends more days biting his tongue than he would care too. Even with the chance the situation may get better from this point, things could get worse. Cas could find solace in a needle again and push him away and he can’t have that. He can’t be selfish with Cas and he feels like a dick but he still slides out of bed and shuts the door before dialing Bobby’s number.   
Dean thinks about hanging up but there is a gruff voice on the receiver before he can.   
“Bobby, hey, I uh, I need to talk to you.”


	7. Under the Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let me drown, don't let me drown in the waves, oh  
> I could be found, I could be what you had saved  
> -The Pretty Reckless

Cas does not whine when Dean packs him a bag, stocked with socks and old t-shirts. He does not complain when his bag is tossed into the trunk of the impala. He sits in the front seat and buckles his seat belt. He sits wriggling his toes in his new (shoelace free) sneakers and waits for Dean to drive him down to the rehabilitation center.   
\--  
A few days before Dean propositioned him with the flyer for Hope Springs Rehabilitation Center. They look through it together, a month long program, recreation center, garden for Cas to walk barefoot in. Dean will cover the cost, whatever he can’t foot he will pay Bobby back for. Cas makes a loose promise to pay him back that Dean shoots down. Moments pass where they are quiet, Dean waiting for Cas’s decision.   
Cas knows it will help to be in a controlled environment, learn better ways to cope. He feels a little betrayed by Dean, but knows he is only trying to help. He thinks about Anna, Gabriel, his dad. If anything he needs to do this for them, show them he can get better. His skin itches and he wants to get high again, decides then he needs to go through with this. All at once he wants to cling to Dean’s side and beg him not to make him go alone.  
The water is warm when he climbs into the tub. Today is not a day for standing in showers, he decides. He reclines his head against the wall and lets his limbs sink into the water. He shuts his eyes and feels like he’s in an ocean, drowning deeper in his own sickness. He slides against the wall until his face his submerged and holds his breath. He doesn’t see Dean enter, rather feels the cold air from the door opening. He blinks his eyes and comes up for air again.   
He watches Dean shed his clothes and slides his knees to his chest so Dean can fit in the tub with him. Once he’s situated he motions for Cas to come closer, so he turns and scoots until his back is pressed against Dean’s chest. He shivers when Dean runs a hand through his hair and presses a kiss there. He hears a shampoo bottle open and feels the coolness on his scalp, then Dean’s fingers massaging the soap into his hair. He tilts his head back and lets him rinse the mixture out of his hair.   
When he is finished, Dean slings an arm around his waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. Stubble prickles his cheek and warm breaths puff against his ear. He listens to the sound of water dripping as he rests his palm on Dean’s own. Feels like he has found solid ground for the first time in a long time. He furrows his brow and wonders how he got so lucky that he was able to meet Dean Winchester, savior extraordinaire. When Dean speaks, his voice vibrates against Cas’s back.   
“You gonna be okay?”  
“I’m scared,” he feels like a child again.  
“I know, I know but it’s gonna be okay. You know, they will take care of you.”  
I want you to, Cas thinks. He waits a beat before responding.   
“I know.” He pauses and watches Dean’s toes wriggle in the water. “I’ve been running from this for so long, it just feels strange. I know I need to give it up but there’s this piece of me, this anchor just wanting to stay like this.”   
Dean strokes his stomach with his thumb. “You can’t let it get you. You’re strong, you can beat it, really.”   
Cas nods numbly to his words, knows he is trying, words don’t come easy to Dean. His mind has become a storm cloud though, filled with all the reasons this will not work. His subconscious makes up lies that no matter of force can vanquish. But Dean is still here, still rooting for him and trying. So Cas has to try, has to commit to this and just let it all go from here on out. Inhale, exhale. He sags his body against Deans and rests there until their fingers are pruned. 

\--  
The next night is tougher with the thought of leaving in the morning looming over him. He feels like he has so much to do, so much to say and all at once he is paralyzed. He just sits on the couch with Dean’s phone in his hand. Anna’s number is punched in but his finger will not move to hit call. He was doing so much better when she visited and now it feels like a set-back. He feels like he has failed her again but she deserves to know where to send him letters for the next five weeks. He squeezes his eyes shut and hits call then presses the phone to his ear.  
There are three rings, he counts, before she answers.  
“Hello?” His throat clenches because there is a smile in her voice and he doesn’t want to ruin that.  
“Anna, it’s Cas,” he chokes out.  
“Cas, hey. Is everything okay, you don’t sound so good.”  
“No, I’m fine. I mean, it will be fine.” He exhales and pushes through his reason for calling. “Dean’s taking me to a treatment center tomorrow; I’ll be there for a month. It will help me get better.”   
“Oh,” there is a pause. “That’s good though Cas. It takes courage, really.”   
Anger courses through Cas because he’s sick of people telling him he is courageous and strong and it will ‘get better’. He does not feel strong, he feels like a sailboat fighting against a current that is threatening to slam him into an iceberg if he does not take down his sails. He feels helpless. He swallows it down and refocuses on what Anna is saying on the other end.  
“Yeah, it’s good. Listen, I won’t be able to receive phone calls but you can send letters.”   
After he ends the phone call, Anna promises to send the message along to Gabriel when he gets back from his business trip. He is in another state working on some lawsuit with his partners. He feels lighter with the hope of Anna keeping in touch with him. He looks around the apartment and decides to spend the day cleaning. It is something, a distraction from the lingering thoughts.   
About noon, the place is spotless and Cas still has a day to kill and fears to escape. He spends an hour on the couch with Grace as Dean sits beside him watching something about cars. Grace is playing with a mouse toy Dean bought her when Cas first came to stay. He smiles when it squeaks and scares her. Yesterday he made Dean promise to keep her until he gets back. Dean just laughed and agreed. It took a while, but Dean was finally warming up to her, enough to sit next to her on the couch without flinching when she bats a paw at him.   
Cas decides he doesn’t want to spend the day inside, if he is going to be locked away for a month he wants to take advantage of the sunshine while he can. He is dismayed when he finds his wings falling apart but leaves without them anyways. He still refuses to put on shoes, which makes Dean smirk.   
The sun is bright and the grass and is soft beneath his feet when they get to the park. Along one side is a string of trees they lay under. A breeze blows, makes Cas’s hair stand in different directions but it feels nice so Cas doesn’t care. He watches Dean point out clouds and compare them to various animals. Their fingers entwine and Cas can’t help but smile and bite back tears because Dean is still here, wants to be here, and will be there when he gets released.   
Before returning home, Cas makes Dean stop at the grocery store to pick something up, hides the bag from Dean when he tries to peek inside. Dean has called off work, but says he has to run to the store so Cas decides then to make him his pie. What he lacks in money he can make up in food he thinks. Dean comes home before he is finished so he makes him stay in the living room so he can work uninterrupted. Dean has never been a good listener so he runs into the kitchen as soon as cherry pie wafts into the living room. He is seated with a shit-eating grin when Cas finally pulls it out of the oven. He cuts two slices, slides his own of Dean’s plate when he decides he is not hungry. Dean doesn’t mind, just eats them both making sounds that Cas thinks should be illegal. Cas sips a coffee instead.   
Dean pulls a bag from beside the couch and slides into Cas when he’s finished eating. Inside are two, small, notebooks and felt tip pens.   
“So you can write when you’re there.” He says, settling an arm around Cas’s waist.   
“Thank you, Dean.” He hates himself when he starts crying, but Dean just curls him into his lap. It feels real now, in less than twenty four hours he will be in a room with people he has never met before and have to talk about things he doesn’t even want to think about. When the lights go out he will have to lay in a less then comfortable cot and there will be no Dean to wake him when he screams. No Dean to whisper song lyrics when he can’t sleep. No Dean to make him coffee in the morning. No Dean.   
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Dean whispers against his hair, presses a kiss there.   
“I just don’t want to be alone,” he manages between sobs. Dean strokes his back and holds him closer.  
“You won’t be, alright. I’ll write okay, and I’ll be here when you’re out. Five weeks Cas, just five weeks and then you’re back.” Cas just nods because his voice isn’t working.  
“There will be good people there Cas, real good people. You need something and you can go to them, write to me, and write in your journals. It’ll be okay.” Dean rambles on.   
\--  
The drive to Hope Springs is long. Cas nearly had a panic attack when the car started so Dean continues talking to him the whole ride. He rambles on about things he and Sam did as kids. The time they went to the Grand Canyon and he rode a farty donkey. Cas laughs at that so Dean counts it as a win. As he gets closer to his destination he starts getting nervous, loses track of his words and starts belting song lyrics.   
Dean feels guilty leaving Cas on his own. Since he met the guy he has been there, wants to be there. It’s for the better, he keeps telling himself. When they drive to the entrance he thinks of Bobby dropping Sam off, pictures Sam fighting him the whole way. He rubs Cas’s knee and gives him a half-hearted smile. Cas tries to reciprocate but it falters when he locks eyes on the building. It’s small, quaint, looks more like a nursing home.   
Dean cuts the engine and unbuckles his belt but doesn’t move to get out of the car. Instead he grips Cas by the shoulder and pulls him in until their lips are pressed together, whimpers when Cas deepens the kiss. Cas pulls back, breathless, and cups Dean’s cheek in his palm. His breath is hot against Dean’s face when he speaks.   
“Dean, if you turn me on and make me wait a month I will come back and kill you.”  
Dean chuckles and presses another kiss to his lips. “Think anyone will notice us in the parking lot?” He waggles his eyebrows.  
“Dean,” Cas whines so Dean throws his hands up in defense. He still counts a win because he managed to make Cas smile.   
The walk to the building is agonizingly slow, same with the sign in process. Dean pays with a credit card and makes a mental note to thank Bobby. He sticks with Cas when they give him a tour of the facility. When he finally has to leave, he gives Cas a hug that knocks the wind out of him and a quick kiss. He feels guilty, again, when Cas hangs his head and walks to his room alone.   
\--  
The sun rises and Dean doesn’t sleep. His dreams are full of a lonely, lost Cas and a broken Sam. He swallows his guilt, builds up his courage and dials Sam’s number. Dean is almost speechless when a tired Sam answers the phone, he chokes on his words and tries to rearrange them into something coherent.   
“Sammy, it’s Dean. I know it’s been a while and I’m sorry and-“ Sam cuts him off.  
“Dean?” his voice so hopeful it makes Dean’s stomach churn. “God, Dean, I miss you, we need to talk, in person. When are you free?” Dean mentally kicks himself when he feel a tear roll down his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue.


	8. Epilogue

Dean drove to Hope Springs with Anna and Gabriel as nervous energy coursed through him. It had been a month since he had seen Cas, they kept in touch with letters. Cas would draw him a doodle with each letter that now lined Dean’s bedroom wall, hung above the bed post. He smiled and flushed remembering Cas would see them now. Anna was operating the stereo, even though shotgun shuts his cake hole, and he cringed to the techno beat of the song that was playing.  
Since Cas had left, he stayed in contact with his siblings. Anna showed him her paintings; she was good, Cas would be proud. She was smart and kind and Dean would be proud to call her little sis. Gabriel was smart too, but you would not know when he started opening his mouth. Having a clean-cut conversation with him was impossible, but Sam liked him Dean guessed he was okay. Sam and Gabriel could talk about lawyer things that Dean never really understood. Gabe even made Sam an offer for an internship when he got far enough in his studies and passed the Bar exam. Yeah, Gabe is a good guy, even if he did mass send a picture of Dean wearing lipstick in his sleep.  
The first weeks were hard for Cas, his letters were enough to keep Dean up at night. He knew it would be hard on both of them; especially Cas, but he could not help feeling guilty. By the third week, Cas was finally making headway. His letters became more cheerful, full of hope. He had made a new friend, an English man named Baltizar who struggled with drug addiction as well. He was new to the program but his openness allowed them to bond quickly. By the fourth week, Cas was eager to get back home, writing letters lewd enough to make Dean blush.  
He wondered what Cas looked like now, if he had changed at all. He thought of him reclining in the backseat and taking his shoes off. That would be Cas. Dean nearly missed the turn into the parking lot and had to make a sharp turn, earning him a punch in the arm from Anna. She turned the radio off before Dean cut the engine. It was quiet and Dean could not remember if they were supposed to meet Cas inside or wait. He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out anyways.  
The sun was bright, nearly blinding, as he made his trek up to the center. He could smell flowers in bloom and hear birds waking up in a tree nearby. Anna and Gabriel trailed behind him. He took a deep breath before reaching the handle of the door and opened it to find Cas smiling on the other side. He had gained weight; Dean could not tease him for being scrawny anymore. His realization was punctuated when Cas wrapped his arms around his neck, his legs around his waist, hanging on like an octopus. Dean wrapped his own arms around Cas and laughed at the tickle of breath on his neck.   
“I missed you,” he whispered in Dean’s ear.  
“I know,” he whispered back and Cas knew the ‘I missed you too’ was there.  
Cas finally detached himself when he saw his siblings. Dean could see him blush when he tucked his head down. After exchanging hugs and small talk with his siblings, Dean carried Cas’ bags to the car. Anna let Cas have the front seat and pushed Gabe in the back when he tried to steal it for himself. Dean did not mind when Cas turned on a stringy, sappy song. He pulled out of the lot and rearranged his face when his cheeks hurt from smiling.  
\--  
Conversation with Dean was stilted, after minimal communication it was to be expected. Cas teased him about how cheesy hanging his letters up was, but his heart swelled at the gesture. They exchanged glances and smiles, having an entire conversation with their eyes. Much of the apartment was the same; Cas could tell Dean tried to clean before getting him. He smiled when he saw Grace perched on the bed like she owned it. Whatever reservations Dean had towards owning a cat were gone now. He pet her fur and smiled when she purred against him.   
Dean cleared a couple drawers in his room for Cas, helped him unpack his bags. Cas was glad to finally be home, be with Dean again. Even more enthralled that Dean meant it when he said he would be here when he got out. Dean was folding a pair of jeans when Cas wrapped his arms around his waist. He could feel Dean still beneath him and wondered if he should let go. When Dean turned to look at him he looked like a kid who had finally found their mom in the grocery after being lost for a century. His arms were tight around Cas’ waist and Cas hoped he would never have to let go again. After a few sloppy kisses, Dean loosened his grip to look at Cas more clearly.  
“I want you to meet my brother,” he said.  
“You finally called?” Dean wrote letters every week so Cas wondered when he had finally picked up the phone.   
“Yeah, he’s coming over during his break. We still have some catching up to do, but I want you to meet him.” Cas likes the way Dean’s eyes light up when he talks about his brother now. The amount of compassion in his voice, something about Dean has changed and Cas thinks he likes it.  
“I’d like that,” Cas pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth. “We should get back to Anna and Gabriel.” He said when Dean didn’t reply.  
“Oh no, I have waited five weeks for this,” he lifted Cas and laid him back onto the bed, where Grace ran to avoid being crushed. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, cheek, nose, chin, neck. Cas would love nothing more to erase a month’s worth of frustration but he had siblings waiting for him. Siblings he needs to reconnect with as Dean has. As he was about to protest, Dean started a trail of kisses down his stomach, ending just above his hip. Yeah, they can wait. They did not get far, just as Dean was un-tucking Cas’ shirt Gabriel walked in rambling about his new cell phone app causing Dean to fall off the bed.  
“Your brother is not allowed over here anymore,” he muttered into the carpet.  
\--  
It took Cas a good amount of training, but he finally managed a position at the Roadhouse. Ellen warmed up to him quickly, enjoyed his humor, or lack thereof. Plus, he made Dean happy and that made him worth accepting. He was stuck doing grunt work, he still had a lot to learn about mixing drinks but he could manage the cash register and stock room well.   
When he emerged from counting the number of hamburgers left, he found Dean talking to a tall man seated at a table. Dean did not have many family photos but from the way Dean was mercilessly teasing him he was sure it was Sam. He wiped his hands nervously on his pants when Dean called him over.   
“Cas, this is my brother Sammy,” Cas laughed at how Sam cringed at the nickname.  
“Nice to meet you Sam, I’ve heard a lot of good things,” he extended a hand.  
“Yeah man, same about you. Hear you make a mean pie,” Sam shook his hand in return. Cas could see Dean blush in the corner of his eye. Sam was bright and cheery and Cas could not help but smile at that. He was tall too, so much so Cas had to crane his neck to maintain eye contact.   
“Well now that you are acquainted, let’s get some burgers. I’m starved,” Dean said waving another waiter over.   
“Burgers Dean? Don’t you think it’s time you had a salad for once,” Sam’s tone was all mocking but Dean’s face got serious.  
“Burgers are a way of life Sam. I thought I raised you better.” Dean shot a glance at Cas. “Besides, Cas likes them, right Cas?”  
“They make me very happy,” he smiled back at Dean. Sam looked between Dean and Cas and it finally clicked. He leaned back and let it slide because if Cas could make Dean realize that he’s worth more than self-loathing and finally pick up the phone than Cas is top notch in his book.   
After greasy burgers and a salad Dean, Cas and Sam walked back to Dean’s place. Since Sam was on break for two weeks, he would spend one of them on Dean’s couch. Unused to staying up late, he crashed on Dean’s couch sometime after midnight, his body too large for the sofa. Dean threw a blanket over him and motioned for Cas to follow him into the bedroom. He shut the door and before Cas had a chance to turn on the light Dean was pressing him against the wall.   
“We’re finishing what we started,” he grunted into Cas’ ear and that was an offer Cas was not about to say no to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so happy with this, endings are hard.


End file.
